*returns with a bowl of water, a bottle of vodka, and a (relatively) clean cloth*

OK, move it you two.

Let me look… ****. ****! Okay, it’s okay. GUMSHOE, YOU’RE GOING TO BE OK. HANG IN THERE.

*Whispering to Trent*

He’s in a bad way, actually. The bullet has pierced his lung. We have to get those medics here, pronto. There’s no time to lose; he needs surgery. Meanwhile, I’ll do what I can.

*in a strained, cheerful voice*

Ok, Gumshoe, let’s get you fixed up then. Ok, this might sting a little.

*Tears open Gumshoe’s shirt. A large hole on the left side of Gumshoe’s chest is leaking a bloody froth. With every breath, the hole sputters a little.*

First, we’ll just clean you up a bit…

*Tears the cloth in half. Uses one half to wash the area around the wound with water, then vodka.*

Now, this is just a little poultice that’ll help draw the lead out of your body, okay?

*Takes the other half, dips it in the water, and uses it to wrap up the slippery elm bark*

Now, you need to hang on. Just rest. Hold my hand. You’re going to be okay.

*Whispering again to Trent*

****… where are those medics? I can only extend his time so long…